


Just Tell Him

by akirerae



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, first fic, how do you people find so many other things to tag, un-betaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akirerae/pseuds/akirerae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Haru tries to tell Makoto that he's going to Tokyo, too, and realizes that his feelings for his best friend's smile is a bit worrisome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Tell Him

As he waits for Makoto to come out of his shower, Haru ponders over how Makoto might react when Haru tells him the news. It's not like Haru hasn't mused over the thought before. Not at all. It's been the only thing he has been thinking about, because maybe, if he only dwells on the positive outcomes, it will settle the weird disgusting feeling that settled itself in his stomach.

Haru turns a blank gaze at the TV, finding himself having a staring contest with his own reflection. The two of them had just finished a round of the latest video game that Makoto bought the other day, and of course, Haru had his ass handed to him. He huffs a laugh. Makoto really is different person when he's playing games. Haru blinks a few times, startling himself out of his own thoughts. Ah, he's getting side tracked. The worms that churn and curdle the acid in his stomach tells him as much.

With a soft sigh, Haru leans against the bed, resting his head on the mattress as he purses his lips slightly in thought. He's only seen that face a few times in his lifetime, and not all of them have been directed at him. He's gotten two, possibly five if counting from the time when Makoto was far more impressionable. Well, not to say that Makoto is any less impressionable now. Somehow, the boy still retains the purest qualities of his childhood. At any rate, Haru's not really complaining. He's grateful that he even has the honor to say that The Reaction was caused by his words and his feelings alone. It's just for some reason, like his affinity towards water, he only craves for it more.

Haru slowly bends over to hide his face in his knees, a blush creeping across his cheeks, much against his will, as he recalls the details of The Reaction. A brief moment of confusion that quickly changes to disbelief. Another split-second blink of examining Haru's face very closely to see if he's serious or not, before Makoto's face lights up so brilliantly that Haru finds himself startled at the fact that he doesn't look away because in all honesty, it's like looking directly at the sun.

The other possible response would be The Smile. Haru's breath catches in his throat just thinking about it. It does something to every inch of him that he can't explain succinctly in words. Maybe it makes him happy, but the feeling in the hollow cavity where his heart resides makes Haru believe that maybe it's more than that. He hugs his knees tighter, closer to his chest.

Warm. He isn't aware that smiles had temperatures until he had first seen, first remembered, Makoto's. When he sees it, that particular smile, he can't help but stare. It's just a smile, but it's a special smile, one that he likes to think is a smile that Makoto saves especially for him.

A smile Haru won't even begin to fathom sharing, let alone see it being given to anyone else.

Haru looks up abruptly when he hears Makoto's soft footsteps enter the bedroom, the boy himself drying his hair with a towel. Haru swallows thickly, suddenly feeling self conscious and antsy. He opens and closes his mouth, but to no avail. The most he can utter are small noises that probably sound like he's dying, given the concerned look that Makoto is giving him now.

Makoto's towel drops to lie around his shoulder as he tilts his head slightly and he moves to take one step forward, but seems to think better of it. He stays rooted where he is. Haru doesn't know if he should be grateful or worried.

"Haru... Is something wrong?"

Haru tries to speak again and fails. He is well aware that his mouth is behaving like a fish out of water, and probably looks stupid because of it. He averts his stare to the floor he's currently sitting on and tightens his hold on the shirt he's wearing. Makoto's shirt. Makoto's shirt that smells like Makoto. Haru is tempted to shove his nose into the cotton material- maybe it'll calm his nerves- but he doesn't. Despite what anyone else says, he's actually conscious of what technically is defined as decent. Just not with water though. Water is not another human being. Water is not Makoto. Haru swallowed another nervous lump as his mind whispers to him what is has been telling him the second he received the letter in the mail, and for every other failed attempt he had between then and right now:

_Just tell him._

He risks a peek up at his childhood friend. Makoto looks a little afraid, and that in turn causes Haru to scowl at himself. Makoto shouldn't be afraid. This isn't something that will scare him. Or at least it shouldn't. Haru is sure it won't.

The soft sound of scuffling jerks Haru's gaze back up to Makoto. The boy has taken a few steps forward.

"Haru, is something bothering you? You- You've been trying to tell me something all this week and last week, haven't you?"

Haru found himself staring dumbly at the boy. Of course Makoto would know. Even though he does not know the specifics, Makoto still would know if something is bothering his best friend, just as Haru made it his job to do the same. They just had a mutual unwritten agreement that they would never tell the other that he knew, not unless it is absolutely necessary. Haru shakes his head jerkily and lets out a shaky breath.

"No. A little. Kind of." Damn. Now he's stumbling over words. Haru takes in a deep breath and exhales it slowly before trying again, more pleased with the result this time around. He actually sounds normal. "Makoto. I have something to tell you."

Dammit. Now what? Haru has been so caught up in what might be Makoto's reaction that he forgot to figure out what he is going to say.

Between his response and his brain's mental stuttering, Makoto has found the time to seat himself a respectful distance away from Haru. He smiles at him encouragingly. It's okay, take your time. Is what the smile says. Another smile that Haru tucks into his collection of Makoto smiles. A collection that started the day Haru knew that he liked them.

Haru lets out another shuddering breath. Okay. A pause in his thinking. Okay. He should just do this as he usually does things- Naturally and spontaneously. He swallowed hard and nodded slightly to himself. Yeah. He can do that.

With robotic movements, he tugs his bag over to him and takes out the envelope. By now, it's not as crisp and pristine as when he first got it, the cause of it being the nervous nights of him fiddling with it and occasionally tossing it onto the floor in frustration, but regardless, the envelope and the letter inside should still be able to serve it's purpose.

As he slowly turns to Makoto, his heart beats like a hummingbird's, his body trembles as if there is an earthquake inside of him and worse yet, it decides to concentrate itself in his fingers. The envelope just won't stop shaking.

"H-Here."

Just one word that has only one syllable, and it manages to stutter and catch in Haru's throat.

Makoto looks at Haru with a curious expression. Or at least, Haru thinks that Makoto is. He can't bring himself to look right at this moment. Besides, the way his heart tries to break out of his chest with its insistent hammering is worrisome enough.

"Haru, is this...?" There's the crinkling of the envelope as Makoto opens it, and the rustling of paper as he takes out the letter. A moment of silence tells Haru that Makoto is reading it. There's a hitching of breath, the slight gasp of disbelief, that screams at Haru, telling him that he should look up now, right now, and that he should have been looking this entire time because Makoto would have been looking at the letter anyway, not him. Haru may not know Makoto's reaction as he reads the letter, but he will see the aftermath expression even if it kills him, so with all the courage he can muster, he raises his head to look at the boy he's been trying and trying to tell the news to.

And has his breath stolen from him.

Makoto's lights up. There is no other way to describe it. There's no event to link it up to because it's damn insulting to reduce such an invaluable expression to such a simplified comparison. All the light in the room seems to have collected in Makoto's eyes and amplified itself in tenfold. His eyes crinkle at the corners. Awe opens his mouth and shows the whites of his teeth. It's exactly how Haru remembers it, exactly how it was a few years ago, but no-

Makoto isn't content with making Haru forget how to breathe. No, Makoto had to make Haru's hammering heart stutter and forget how to beat properly, too, because it is then when the light of The Reaction bleeds into the warmth of The Smile. And it isn't like any of the past smiles that Haru has locked up in his collection, either- Haru would know. It's a hundred times warmer, a hundred times fonder, a hundred times whatever that emotion one Haru keeps seeing and can never place his finger on what it is, but nevertheless it does funny things to him that makes him believe that he may be terminally ill.

"Tokyo...?" Makoto's voice comes out hushed, as if this is a dream that he doesn't want to disturb.

Haru nods stiffly in affirmation, his voice sounding jarring to his own ears. "Tokyo."

Light and warmth meet in Makoto's laughter. The boy's smile really is too much now, but Haru resolves to look away only when he absolutely cannot stand stating at this microcapsule of the sun anymore.

"I'm glad."

So much sincerity in two small words. It almost makes Haru blush. Actually, Haru thinks that maybe he is blushing right now, because there's heat radiating from his cheeks that wasn't there before.

"I-I mean, I'm glad that you decided where you're going to study, Haru. Tokyo is such a nice place. I'm just really happy that it ended up being a place that's so close. It's such a nice coincidence." More warm laughter. More of that smile that makes Haru's heart forget how to beat.

For some reason, though Haru does not think of this until much, much later; not until he's lying in bed replaying every single second of this scene into the early hours of the next day, Makoto's words leaves a sense of uneasiness in Haru's stomach. Wasn't Makoto the one who always tried to pin coincidences into inevitability? What caused him to change his thinking?

But as of right now, Haru's stared at the sun for as long as he could, possibly even longer. Either way, he is starting to really feel the sunburn creep across his skin.

Suddenly, it's all just a little too much. The room is stifling, probably nearing 36°C, Haru is pretty sure his sunburn has seeped down to his chest, and Makoto is staring at him, probably wondering what is wrong with him. Because right now, Haru knows that he doesn't have the lid on his emotions like he usually does, so whatever expression he's wearing right now probably speaks volumes. Volumes he doesn't want Makoto seeing, volumes that he doesn't even know the meaning behind. Either way, he needs to leave, have a breather, because right now, it seems like he has forgotten how to breathe altogether. The urge has Haru stumbling over his words as he abruptly stands up and walks briskly to the door.

"I'm- I'm going. For a jog. I'm going out for a jog."

It's like regionals all over again during their second year of high school. Back then, it took all of Haru's courage to say what he said, and he still got flustered. Even when he took the precaution of not looking at Makoto's face, even when he told the boy when he was absolutely sure that Makoto was only half awake, Haru still upped out of the room and went for a late night jog.

God, Makoto is laughing as he did then, too. Haru can hear it echoing against the walls and ringing in his head as he hurries down the hallway and down the stairs. The laugh- Makoto's laugh- is knowing, his laugh is happy, his laugh does a funny thing to Haru's stomach and makes the red that already stains his skin even brighter.

Maybe it really is a sunburn after all.

The cool air that washes over him the second he opens the back door is refreshing and cools off the heat that radiates from his person. He closes the door behind him and instead of going out for a late night run as he planned, he walks over to the gravestone that marks the place where Makoto buried his goldfish that year when they were in sixth grade. After paying his respects, he remains there, crouched down before the gravestone, allowing a moment to process the thoughts that swirl restlessly in his mind.

His heart is still beating hundreds of kilometers per minute. He grips the front of Makoto's shirt, trying to calm the organ down. His best friend's reaction continues to play over and over again in Haru's head regardless if he has his eyes closed or not. His grip on the shirt tightened.

So he was right. He got to see that face again. It's different from the others though because it was immediately followed by the warmest smile Makoto has ever given to Haru thus far, so warm that Haru has to take a moment to engrave that sight into his long term memory, taking longer than he usually does to do so. His thighs start to shake so he sits down on his rear before tugging at the damp grass next to him, swallowing a lump of nervous confusion.

Was it natural to be as happy as he is right now? Was it normal to collect his best friends smiles? To have this unexplainable desire to keep them all to himself? To never want Makoto to show that face to anyone else but Haru?

Haru hugs his knees to his chest. His heart still hasn't calmed down, and the blush that had subsided for the past five minutes is beginning to come back in full. And why was it that the thought of Makoto showing that face to anyone else hurt Haru the way it does? Makoto is free to do what he wants. Haru doesn't have the right to dictate who Makoto can smile at, and what kind of smile Makoto can give them. He rested his forehead on his knees and willed his heart to stop aching. For this strange sensation that resulted from strange causes to go away. Haru sighed loudly and glanced up at the lights that lit up the Tachibana residence.

But more importantly, why does he even feel this way to begin with?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any technical errors; spelling or grammar. If there are any, just point them out to me. Um.. Oh and thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, I meant to write out the all the previous of Haru's attempts that led up to this point, but I got lazy. If you're interested, I might come back and add more.


End file.
